How to Be Dead
by LexiLoo919
Summary: "Please don't go crazy if I tell you the truth."  The truth?  Jane?  Yeah, right, she mentally scoffs, not in this lifetime.  One shot, Jane/Lisbon hints.


So this is not only my very first fanfic but also the first piece of creative writing I've done since high school (which was 10 years ago), and the very first piece that's voluntary. This little thing has been stuck in my head for ages, and I've finally got it out. It's inspired by the Supernatural story Waking Up in Vegas by OuEstLaCraie. Check it out! I liked the idea of a songfic where the only dialogue comes from the song lyrics, and listening to this song I had a very clear picture of Jane and Lisbon in a hotel after a case. It's a one-shot that could take place at any point in the series. I think the end could use a little more work, but if I stop now, I'll never finish it. Any and all feedback is welcome! Hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: The Mentalist belongs to CBS and How to Be Dead is by Snow Patrol.

How to Be Dead

They were staying in yet another nondescript hotel room, in yet another nondescript small town, and Jane had pulled yet another reckless stunt that had landed her in hot water. Did the details even matter? It was the same every time. Theresa Lisbon sat on the edge of her perfectly made bed and stared at the blank sheet of white in front of her. It's late and the sheets feel soft and inviting beneath her, which is welcome because she is exhausted. She can sense Jane outside her door, and she knows he's pacing while he schemes up some charming apology paired with a cocky smile that will make her anger melt and her knees weak. But this time she is determined to resist. She knows he won't be able to settle down tonight until the tension between them is resolved. But that's not her problem, so she's just going to ignore him and try to relax in a nice, hot bubble bath while she pushes all the all the memories of this case to the back of her mind. Finally, the soft knock comes on her door and he calls her name. Lisbon doesn't move. Jane knocks again. And again. He pulls the blanket he has wrapped around himself tighter and runs his hand over the smooth wood panel in front of his face, leaning his forehead against the frame. Normally he would have tried to make amends much sooner than this, but Lisbon's anger was more intimidating than usual, so at the time he thought it best to give her till the morning to cool off. But he just couldn't sleep, leaving things like this. So he made his way to her room to patch things up and win her over once more with a wink and a grin. She usually manages to shrug the anger off, pouting at him the whole time. Making up with her is his favorite reason for getting her mad in the first place. Now, though, he is beginning to sense that this time is different. He pauses while he rethinks his strategy.

Lisbon waits, holding her breath. She knows he's not going to give up that easily. Jane calls her name again, and follows it with the beginning of his apology. "Please don't go crazy if I tell you the truth." The truth? Jane? Yeah, right, she mentally scoffs, not in this lifetime. But since he can't read her mind through the walls, he continues on. "No you don't know what happened and you never will if you don't listen to me while I talk to the wall." She knows how that feels; she's tried it before. The walls never seem to hold the answers. You just end up feeling cold and alone. Jane knows he has her attention now. "This blanket is freezing; it's been out in the hall, where you've had me for hours till I'm sure what I want—" Damn right she has "– but darling I want the same thing that I wanted before." Of course he does. "So sweetheart, tell me what's up, I won't stop. No way." That's definitely true. She can feel herself weakening already, even after her promise to herself. It has nothing to do with his endearments though - nothing at all. She's only letting him in out of courtesy to the other people sleeping on this floor. They shouldn't have to suffer as well.

So she sighs for the umpteenth time that day, and slowly makes her way across the room and opens the door to let him in. He saunters in without hesitation and then preempts her before she can even begin the tirade she's been working on all day. "Please keep your hands down and stop raising your voice. It's hardly what I'd be doing if you gave me a choice." Well, of course not. He's always perpetually calm and collected. The relaxed ying to her stressed out yang. He strolls around the room before lounging against the bed looking at her expectantly.

He watches the annoyance flicker on her face and raises an eyebrow at her. "It's a simple suggestion-" She interrupts him this time, protesting, "Can you give me some time?" He opens his mouth to start arguing, but she cuts him off again, "So just say yes or no, why can't you shoulder the blame?" Now she can feel the frustration bubbling to the surface again. She needs him to understand the cost his actions have for her. "Cause both my shoulders are heavy from the weight of us both. You're a big boy now so let's not talk about growth." He never gets it though. Now matter how many times she tries to explain. "You've not heard a single word I have said." Why does she even bother trying anymore? It's too exhausting. She sighed again, "Oh my God."

Jane watches her closely and begins to realize the toll this case has been taking on her. They're all difficult in their own way, some more than others. Usually he can tell ahead of time when one is going to strike a nerve with her. He knows how to read her. But then there are times when it just gets to be too much, even though nothing particular about the case hits too close to home. It's like the accumulation of all the evil they see, that they brush up against constantly, just comes crashing down all at once. It happens to each of them from time to time. Unluckily for Jane, these instances are more difficult to predict. Not that he can't see it though, he is the best after all. But this time he must have missed the signs. Probably because he was so caught up in crafting his own trap for the culprit. Now he realizes that he needs to play catch up, fast, and appease her before this argument spins out of control.

Despite having just cautioned her against it, he raises his hand, though in a defensive gesture, "Please take it easy; it can't all be my fault. I haven't made half the mistakes that you've listed so far." Technically it's not a lie, since he doesn't view them as mistakes. Besides which, he just creates the situations. He can't be held responsible for other people's actions within them, right? Right. So therefore there's plenty of blame to share. He has tried to explain this reasoning to Lisbon, but she doesn't buy it. Jane knows it's a weak excuse, but he can't bring himself to acknowledge the true reason: that he already wears the shame of his past actions like a badge, and any more weight might just knock him down, to the point where he can no longer get back up. He carries it with him wherever he goes; it's the reason he spends all his time with the team, because he can't tolerate his own company. It's why he can't sleep at night. There are plenty of nightmares responsible for that as well, but those mostly just wake him up. It's the guilt and the shame festering inside that prevent him from falling asleep in the first place. Powerful sleeping aides are the only things that can drive it away, if only for a little while. He's certainly been taking advantage of said drugs during their stay. "Baby let me explain something; it's all down to drugs at least I remember taking them and not a lot else." If he's honest with himself, this case has actually been getting under his usually well-protected skin as well. He isn't quite sure why, however. Everything is kind of a blur this week, and Jane thinks that maybe he should ease up on the self-medication.

All of a sudden he's so very, very tired. He's tired of this dance with Lisbon, of the constant bickering and battles and tugs of war. He's tired of feeling like he'll never be able make up for his past actions or achieve even some semblance of redemption. He's tired of not being able to save himself, and resisting Lisbon as his savior in waiting. This once, maybe, he's ready for a little honesty; to grab on to the line she keeps casting at him, and toss his own small rope of truth in her direction, "It seems I've stepped over lines you've drawn again and again." Cautiously, he glances at her, waiting for a reaction.

Damn, he's got that right. She raises an eyebrow, considering him, and their situation. Finally, Lisbon sighs. That small concession from him is enough. She's tired of talking now, and is willing to concede this round. Again. "But if the ecstasy's in the wit is definitely out," she cracks a wry smile and falls back on the bed.

Without invitation, Jane hops up beside her, his head lying opposite hers. Sometimes he does relish being Lisbon's own personal albatross. Sometimes Lisbon doesn't know what she'd do with herself if she didn't have him to take care of, and fuss over. Their eyes meet, but now silence reigns, as the words are caught in each of their throats:

"Doctor Jekyll is wrestling Hyde for my pride."


End file.
